The Middle of Somewhere by Sonja Yoerg Page B

together with his tall, handsome wife, had raised five children, none of whom, she suspected, had ever been left alone with a screwdriver and a toaster. The Pembertons were well respected. It was what gave Gabriel, the middle child, his easy confidence.
    From their courtship conversations, Liz pieced together a more complete tableau of the family. The youngest son, Daniel, had Down’s syndrome, but even this seemed more of a blessing than an affliction; God had given them Daniel because they were that good. The Pembertons perpetrated all manner of charity among areas of Santa Fe Liz had no contact with: Rotary Club, Meals on Wheels, Boys and Girls Clubs, soup kitchens, hospice groups and Native American reservations. The most her mother had ever done was donate art supplies to the schools when she ran out of space at home.
    Gabriel could readily have become a sanctimonious bore, but didn’t. He was serious about his goals (he wanted to be a computer jock), but was typically lighthearted (although never goofy). Liz warmed to the idea that there was something to all this God talk—the Pembertons’ version of it anyway—and sensed she’d missed an important part of her development. She had gills while other people were breathing with lungs. There was, however, no point in dwelling on it, as it was too late to grow up differently.
    She waited for Gabriel to voice a complaint about having wanted to play video games instead of working at a food bank, or having to suffer personalized sermons from Pastor Pemberton, but he never did. This made her worry he was too good for her by far, and she might represent a spiritual and emotional charity case to him. When they’d been dating three months, she got up the nerve to ask him what he saw in her.
    â€œWhat do you mean? You’re amazing.”
    â€œI am? I thought I was cynical, aloof and unusually twitchy.”
    He laughed. “You are. Twitchy, I mean. And, yeah, you can be pretty cynical, but who could blame you, the way your parents were. Are. I don’t think you mean it.”
    â€œI don’t?”
    â€œNo. I think you want what everyone wants.”
    â€œAnd what’s that, pray tell?”
    â€œA normal life.”
    So she shouldn’t have been surprised when, the day after they returned to Santa Fe at the end of the semester, Gabriel invited her to meet his family. Liz had been concerned Pastor Thomas Pemberton and his wife, Eleanor, would be less than thrilled about their son’s choice of a Godless geek for a girlfriend, but if it was true, they hid it well. She was asked to join them for dinners, walks, charity events and, of course, at church. The pastor’s sermons weren’t as sermony as Liz expected. Some were posed as friendly suggestions, which an individual could take or leave. Others were parables, delivered in a way to make the ending seem more of a question than an answer. She asked Gabriel’s father how much time he spent creating a sermon.
    â€œUsually twice as long as I need to.”
    The internal yapping of her cynical self was soon drowned out by the Pembertons’ collective genuine good nature. They weren’t the least bit stodgy, mixing the work of church and family with laughter, self-deprecation and a good deal of wine. The eldest daughter was married, and brought her two toddlers to see her parents a couple of times a week. Everyone took turns watching the children, including Liz. As she shepherded them away from myriad dangers lurking in the Pembertons’ childproofed home, she realized it was pure chance she had survived her mother’s lackadaisical parenting.
    When Liz wasn’t working at Radio Shack, she was with Gabriel, and usually his family, too. Her mother dropped comments about never seeing her, and said one day she had missed Liz while she was in California. Liz answered with a shrug, and doubted it was true.
    â€œIt was so quiet without you,” Claire